The Tom Riddle Chronicles
by Jynxpixie
Summary: A set of ten drabbles that follow Tom Riddle from the orphanage to his final death...from his point of view. Rated T and horror because it's, you know, VOLDEMORT. No graphically described violence or anything. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. CHAPTER FOUR FIXED.
1. Growing Up in the Orphanage

I am special.

I know this, despite the other children's attempt to shun me.

It doesn't matter. I am better than them, above them. I know this because my abilities make it so that I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to without training them, and I can make bad things happen to people who are mean to me…I can make them hurt if I want to.

The imbeciles I am forced to share water, food, and bed with have finally caught on to this in the past couple of years. I hung a dear pet rabbit up in the rafters, and even traumatized two of my enemies into permanent silence on an orphanage field trip. When snakes come to talk to me, I have made a habit of setting them on my peers when the desire strikes, as I have the advantage of being able to talk back to the reptiles in their own language.

I finally have the wide berth I desire. People are pathetic, inadequate, feeble. _Pitiful_. Finally someone in a nearby country has realized this and is climbing to power. One day I will be out of this orphanage and not depending on anyone but myself. Perhaps this man will be lucky enough to stumble upon my brilliance and he will ask for my assistance…and maybe I will accept, doing that for a few years before removing him and taking over.

He may be more intelligent than anyone else in this world, but no one is a match for me. No one is a match for my nameless power, my abilities.

I am special.


	2. Dumbledore's Visit

I have met someone who does not fear me.

It is disconcerting.

His name is Albus Dumbledore, and he also has abilities beyond everyone else I've met. They are not as magnificent as mine; however, he teaches at a school that specializes in educating students with similar powers.

He makes it very clear that the tactics I use to survive, as well as for entertainment, will "not be tolerated". The stealing, the lying, the terrorism I inflict on others must stop, he informs me.

This is but a small concern, for I have always been talented at covering my tracks.

Less than three months after that, I am in Hogwarts, the school Dumbledore had told me of. My ability is called magic, and the entire castle practically pulses with all the magic and power it contains. I have been Sorted into Slytherin, one of the four Houses that Hogwarts is separated into, and by far the best one. Salazar Slytherin, I find with research, is my ancestor – I am his last living descendent. His ideals appeal to me greatly. Only _true_ magical beings should be able to learn and practice magic. Everything and everyone else must be eradicated; I knew that to be truth. Especially the disgusting Muggles I had grown up with. I vow to myself as I continue to research that this will become a reality, under _my_ reign.

In class, I stay quiet most of the time, but it becomes apparent to most of my professors how intelligent I am; delighted to have me in their class, my teachers often use my work as an example. As I learn quickly how to navigate the system, I discover that I have a natural charisma that draws people in and I use it to the best of my advantage.

Only one person is not taken in by my persona as the years go on; the person who, on one muggy day in the summer, told me the truth about my powers, and who, unfortunately, that same day, saw the truth about me. I tread carefully, as Dumbledore always keeps a watchful eye, and my schemes remain under the radar. Every other teacher is wrapped around my finger, and I gather tidbits of information over the years on how best to bring about the standards of my brilliant ancestor.

I will be better than him, though.

Because I will succeed.


	3. Opening the Chamber

Muggles deserve nothing.

They certainly don't deserve magic. They deserve to be slaughtered like the stock they are – especially my father, a coward who deserted my mother. My mother, despite being of the purest wizarding line, was absolutely pathetic in any case. If she had been a true witch, she would have been able to avoid dying.

I see many people like this around the school. Not Muggles, but they may as well be – Mudbloods, born of two Muggle parents, running around as they wave their wands to play at being magical. It does not matter, for I am not fooled, and I take matters into my own hands.

Through painstaking research, including many night trips about the castle thanks to my recently acquired Prefect badge, I find the Chamber of Secrets, a creation of Salazar Slytherin that has not been opened since he himself was here. Of course only I was intelligent and talented enough to locate it. Using the Chamber for its true purpose, I unleash the monster within – a Basilisk that obeys me.

I know now that I am the true Heir, and this is the first step to accomplishing a many great things in my life. I know it.

Unfortunately, the gargantuan snake is not as inconspicuous as I am. I only manage the murder of one Mudblood before it is no longer safe for me to continue, so I send the Basilisk back to where it came from and frame it on a half-giant named Hagrid. He is expelled and I am awarded Special Services to the School for stopping him, but Dumbledore's watchful eye on me is even closer than before, and I set my eyes on another plan.

Whatever my next plan is, I must come up with yet another to eliminate those in this school who should not be studying magic. To kill these false wizards and witches, these Mudbloods, so that only those who deserve it shall learn magic.

Muggles don't deserve magic.

Muggles deserve nothing.


	4. Murders and Horcruxes

I will live forever.

I will not die. Death is for those who are weak, who do not have power, and I will have it, even if I do not have it now.

I search for my wizard family, my magical ancestry, hoping to find answers. My mother came from a completely pure-blooded line of wizards and witches. Even though she had been as useless as a Squib, as well as a blood-traitor for bestowing her affections upon a Muggle, surely the family she had come from was much more reputable. From my research, the Gaunts were indeed a very powerful family, but had fallen off the map for decades. It worked to my advantage that they had been laying low.

Unfortunately, I was to be greatly disappointed.

One of them is left, and he is a deplorable being. He is a vicious man without class, Morfin. My uncle. It disgusts me that I share blood with him. I get the information I desire to find my father's line when the ring Morfin is wearing catches my eye. I recognize the mark on it. It is the crest of an ancient family, and it is obvious that it carries powerful magical properties.

I hunt down my Muggle father. He is living with his family. Good. I will destroy any chance for him to continue his line. It gives me great satisfaction that one day soon, I will be doing this to everyone who is not of purely magical blood.

My grandparents die without a fuss. My father, however, who I find with disgust is named Tom Riddle as well, begs for his life. I demand to know why he abandoned me and my mother. His answer I didn't care about, but I enjoyed watching him scramble to find an excuse that he foolishly hoped would spare his life. From his stuttered phrases and high-pitched pleas, I surmised that my mother had put him under a love potion. With this new information, Tom Riddle Sr. falls to the ground, eyes open in death.

I don't hesitate to steal my uncle's ring, alter his memory, and frame him for the crimes I committed.

More research takes over my life for the next year. From quite a bit of reading as well as some manipulation, I discover Horcruxes – a piece of Dark magic that uses murder to allow one to split the soul. No wizard has ever done it more than once, but my abilities far exceed any of theirs. I have no qualms about my plan to sever my soul so many times that I will have seven Horcruxes. Should I get what I want – and I will – I should have more than enough murders to achieve this.

I sever my soul and put a part into a journal so that it may direct another student into opening the Chamber of Secrets to do my work, after I leave, and preferably after Albus Dumbledore is dead.

A great pleasure overtakes my body as I leave the grounds, once again feeling an immense satisfaction. My plan is in motion, and I will not be stopped. I have already achieved so much and there is no one even aware. I feel almost giddy. I will succeed. I will never die.

I will live forever.


	5. Power At Last

I am Lord Voldemort.

The pathetic Muggle man who I was foolish enough to idolize in my childhood fell two months ago. The imbecile took his own life after his kingdom fell around him. This will not happen to me, for I will create a realm that will be indestructible, a realm where I reign and I am immortal.

Normally, this extent of hubris leads to be one's downfall, but I am not normal. I am incredible, extraordinary, and it is finally recognized around me by those close to me. My name is no longer common. Rearranging the letters of Tom Marvolo Riddle, I have created a title and introduction for myself – I am Lord Voldemort.

A small group has gathered to me for guidance in my great purpose, to rid the world of those who do not deserve to live in it. They call themselves the Knights of Walpurgis, an ancient group that was active during Salazar Slytherin's time who feel hostility towards Mudbloods for the torture and grief they caused our kind. After letting a few come to me, I bring together all that I can find discreetly those who agree with those beliefs and standards, and rename the group "the Death Eaters". The Knights of Walpurgis, while they had noble purpose, had failed to succeed in achieving it after an entire millennium. My followers would not suffer the same results.

The name that had been forced upon me had fallen away; now, I am only called Lord Voldemort. I apply for the teaching position of Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Headmaster Dippet informs me that at eighteen, I am too young. He does not know that I have created magic and gone through experience far beyond my years, but it is no matter. I will return.

It takes me much longer than I thought it would to immerse myself in all the magic I can find. Hogwarts did me a disservice. While teaching us of all kinds of magic, it does not even touch on one topic – the Dark Arts. During my education at that school, I was led to believe that there was much less Dark magic out in the world then there really was. I consort with those whom most of society would consider with the worst of wizard kind, making my grandfather's ring into a Horcrux as well as a goblet that had once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff and a locket that had once been Salazar Slytherin's, taken from an old woman that I had been kind enough to put out of her misery.

When I come back to Hogwarts a decade later, Dumbledore is now Headmaster. Infuriatingly, he has never been enamored with myself or my talent, and he makes it very clear that this has not changed. He rejects my application and I curse the position so that no Professor may stay in it for more than a year, as a result of unfortunate circumstances that will befall them.

Undaunted, I start to come out from the shadows. It takes a bit, but the public starts to notice the mysterious disappearances that mark only the beginning of the terror that I will unleash on them. They scramble to assemble themselves, but it is too late. I have been actively preparing for this for over two decades, and it has been in motion since long before my time. Soon they will realize that all hope is lost, and bow down to a being most obviously superior. To their Lord. To me.

I am Lord Voldemort.


	6. Immortal

I am immortal.

I have been gaining more and more power for ten years. I am almost in complete control. Soon enough, I will be able to put focus on taking over the Muggle world as well. I have created other Horcruxes to guarantee my immortality, only one short of my planned seven. The Order of the Phoenix group rebellion that Dumbledore has created to oppose me is scattered and broken.

Severus tells me that I must get an informant who is in the midst of the Order – a mole. Severus also tells me that of the members, a man named Peter Pettigrew is the most pliable. When I find Pettigrew, I find that this is correct. His will is very weak, and his fear very great, and I easily bend him to serve me. I try not to interact with him too much. While he does not have courage, he has a very large and vocal conscience, and I may dispose of him before he can be of use if I do not limit my time around the feeble man.

Within the year, I am very close to ultimate power. Even with the prophecy that my faithful servant Severus has relayed to me, it is something I know I will be able to avert. I know it because I know I am to succeed.

In fact, I've decided to use the murder of the boy who will supposedly be able to defeat me to create my seventh and last Horcrux.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not.. and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survive .. the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._"

This fits only two children, Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter. As of right now, the only advantage they have is youth, but it is hardly worth considering when factoring in that they are only infants. The Longbottom boy, though the son of two Order members, may grow to be one of my own followers and a valuable asset. Harry Potter, also the son of two Order members, is not. The Potters are a pureblood line as old as my own family line, but the last one decided to fornicate and bond himself with a Mudblood to make the half-blood abomination. Severus has asked that I spare the Potter boy's mother, but this cannot be. All impurity must be destroyed, he knows this, and I will continue to carry out my goal.

The Order discovers that I am after the Potters and quickly puts them into hiding. Another year passes as I hunt them. Finally, they are put under a reliable Fidelius Charm. However, the Charm is only as dependable as the Secret Keeper. To my pleasure, Peter himself is the Secret Keeper for the Potters, and I finally confront them.

The father is there to meet me. I hear him before I even enter. "Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off –"

James Potter stands before me as I burst in, wand out as I silently and immediately Disarm him. He only sets his jaw and clenches his fists. Like a true pureblood, he dies with honor, his back straight and proud. It is regrettable he turned into a blood-traitor.

I enter the room where I know the boy is, laughing gleefully as I see his mother protecting him. She stands in front of the crib he's in, in the line of fire. She pleads with me. "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl," I demand of her, knowing she will not. This way I can manipulate Severus into believing I gave her a chance to flee and she didn't take it. "Stand aside now."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead –"

I sneer at the thought. As though I would trouble myself so much for only one Mudblood, and I see her face pale as she sees this in my face.

"Not Harry! Please…have mercy, have mercy…"

Mercy? I find myself laughing again as I murdered her, delighting in her screams before she falls as well. I step over her, not wishing to sully myself. I stare the infant in the face. Harry is not crying, nor wailing, nor whimpering. He only stares back, infant curiosity in his eyes. My lips curl into another sneer.

Harry…such a common name.

I point my wand straight at his forehead, sending the third Killing Curse in the Potter house.

Then the only thing I am conscious of is pain. Pain beyond pain. Nothing could have prepared me for it. I feel myself ripped from my body, and I feel almost nonexistent – less than spirit, than the meanest ghost, but I somehow become aware that I am still alive. I do not know how much time has passed when I possess a mouse and leave the house that I now see is destroyed. Apparently I still have a minimum amount of power.

But now I know that my Horcruxes work. The curse should have finished me, and it did not. Harry Potter may have some power that I do not know, but I will soon enough. I will come back to power, and fulfill the prophecy when I kill him. The fact that I am not destroyed…the fact is undeniable now. Unarguable. I will live forever.

I am immortal.


	7. Isolation

I am alone.

I had, of course, realized this a long time ago. Being dependent on any being for what I need to do to cleanse this world is not an option. I had never wanted to share my power in any case. A few of my followers, such as a recently wedded Bellatrix Lestrange, have tried to grow close to me, and while some gained a miniscule amount of privilege over the others, I have never felt for any of them.

This is not mutual. The Death Eaters are loyal to me, though only some have followed out of fear. I know some will be claiming that they were under the Imperius Curse, but I know they will find me. Lucius Malfoy had always been taking every opportunity to grovel and gain over his fellow Death Eaters. The Lestranges, I know will also be searching for me. Severus as well as Dolohov, Rookwood, and Rowle will also attempt to find me.

I have escaped to the forests of Albania, the place where I found the Ravenclaw diadem I made my Horcrux and hid at Hogwarts. This was done by possessing the bodies of small creatures such as rodents and snakes, which seems to be the only magical power I have left. I do not even possess a physical body of my own.

While I wait, I plot and scheme against Harry Potter. As I possess these inferior forms, it shortens their lifespan even further, which only feeds my increasing rage. Years go by and I start to plan ways to punish my Death Eaters upon my return as well. How dare they abandon me. They will regret it.

Occasionally I got to the edges of civilizations to eavesdrop. Everyone is relieved, everyone thinks I am gone. I am just the tiniest bit appeased when I find that even a decade after my so-called "downfall" they are still so afraid to even say my name, referring to myself as "You-Know-Who" or "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named".

Finally, an inarticulate bumble of a man comes across my hiding place. Extracting the information I need rather easily, his manner rather reminds me of Pettigrew, how easy his will is to bend to mine, but he is not nearly as whiny or incompetent. He is a professor at Hogwarts, and the next term is to begin in the coming month. I have been counting the seasons and I know that this will be Harry Potter's first year at Hogwarts. I convince this Quirenus Quirrell to let me be a part of him, as I won't be able to possess him fully thanks to my weakened state. There is no good and evil – only power, and those too weak to seek it, I tell him. He assists me in creating the magic that binds me to his body, and then we are back at Hogwarts, my face on the back of his head hidden by a turban. At the Sorting ceremony, I hear Harry Potter's name called. The Hat takes an interesting amount of time to Sort him before calling out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

I sneer.

Even though I am literally a parasite off of this man's body, and I have never been closer to another being than before, as I listen to the cheers, whoops, and applause around me in reaction to "The Boy Who Lived", I have never before felt more isolated in my purpose than now. It doesn't matter. By myself, I am more powerful and invincible than any other being, and detachment makes me even more so.

I am alone.


	8. Rising of the Phoenix

I will rise.

I will rise higher than any point I ever was before, even though Quirrell has failed me. Harry Potter has escaped my grasp, as well as the Philosopher's Stone. But I have learned nothing in the past decade if not patience. I retreat back to the forests of Albania, having gathered information on who had abandoned me, and who were in Azkaban because of their service to me. I come to the realization that if all else fails, death will overcome Harry Potter after a long life. He cannot possibly find me here. One lifetime is nothing compared to all eternity.

However, I know I cannot settle for this. If I do not dispose of him myself, there will always be those who question and doubt me, who say that I am only in power because I waited out the one who would have defeated me. This is not an option, so I settle in for another decade or two of waiting.

Much sooner than I had anticipated, someone does find me. A rat scurries near my hiding place and when I attempt to possess the rodent, I discover it is not a rodent at all, but a wizard in his Animagus form: Pettigrew.

Running from Hogwarts and those he had once called friends, Pettigrew grovels at my presence. He has nowhere else to go and I use this to my advantage. We begin planning my return, this time much more in depth than I had with Quirrell. I know that if this is to succeed, every last detail must be planned. We even extract information from Ministry official Bertha Jorkins, about my loyal servant Crouch, the upcoming Quidditch World Cup, and most importantly, the reinstatement of the Triwizard's Tournament to be hosted at Hogwarts.

Everything is planned and executed perfectly. Crouch replaces Moody as Professor at D.A.D.A at Hogwarts, excellently pulling off the switch. Harry gets through the Tournament relatively unscathed so that he may get to the Cup in the Third Task, despite the small hitch of the Hufflepuff taking it with him. _Gryffindors_.

I order Wormtail to kill the spare, and the boy falls. Potter is then binded. Wormtail commences with a twisted, improvised version of the ancient magic that protected Potter from me: the so-called _love_ his mother felt and her sacrifice for him that initiated an ancient blood magic and cast a shield for him against me. It is why Quirrell could not touch him while I had possession of him. I use my father's bone, Wormtail's limb, and Potter's blood to create my body, and it works. I have my wand returned to me by Wormtail, and I can feel the malicious glee on my face as I approach Potter and touch him. I touch the scar. His scar, the lightning bolt that he is known for, the mark I gave him.

I feel a shot of possessiveness move through my body. I made Potter who he is. My choice to activate the prophecy, to make him my nemesis, has shaped his entire life. I have held the power even in my absence – and the thought gives me great pleasure. Of course I will be the victor. I have the control.

To remind my Death Eaters of this, I speak to them. They are unnerved and I remind them of the security of my service. I demand their renewed allegiance, and I already know I have it. Those who are foolish enough to deny me have not shown. It is unfortunate that Severus is among those who choose to defy me.

Sportingly, I then offer Potter the chance to duel. He takes it. And yet again, I am thwarted because I have overlooked very old and powerful magic; in this case, not love, but wandlore. Potter escapes and I rage – he has taken the Portkey that got him here back to Hogwarts with the corpse of the Hufflepuff.

I will kill him. I will dispose of him. I will destroy him, _decimate_ him, and the only memory anyone will have of him will be that of a famous brat that cowardly ran and hid until I did away with him.

It just won't happen tonight.

It doesn't matter. I laugh, long and loud, and the cold sound soothes me. Potter may have escaped, but I have my body back. My Death Eaters. My wand. My power. I have it all back and more, and by the time I am done with this world, I will have it _all_. Like the phoenix, the very creature from which my wand core originates, I have been born again after what should have been a sure death. I will make sure the world never forgets me, never again has the chance to forget me. I have returned.

I have risen.


	9. Hallows

Great.

Great things have happened. Things I have caused to occur.

The Ministry, at first, denies my existence, and I move behind the shadows to prepare the wrath of destruction I will release later on. Under the radar, I also commit all my resources to finding the Prophecy that intertwines mine and dear Harry's fate, which includes orchestrating a break-out of Azkaban for my Death Eaters. Perhaps Severus did not hear the entire thing, or misheard something. The sooner I am rid of Potter, the better, and maybe the Prophecy holds the key. Harry Potter must be taken care of first so that he may no longer interfere with my plans. Once he is gone, then I may move on to other things.

Unfortunately, events do not happen this way. I find myself feeling more and more rage with every passing encounter and battle. Lucius and the band I sent to apprehend Potter and his friends were captured. The Ministry finally publicly recognizes that I have returned, but by this point in time it is too late.

My climb to power may have been slow, but no one can deny its effectiveness. It did not happen overnight. No longer do I feel the need to demonstrate my power at every opportunity. I am confident in my own abilities. It is now so easy to convince many that I am something other than what they know to be true, and in the confusion and lies I kill many who are unworthy of magic, as well as those who work for the Light.

To punish the Malfoys, I set to the younger a daunting task – killing Albus Dumbledore. I know without a doubt that he will fail, and Severus will prove once and for all that he is my loyal follower when he steps in. The death of Dumbledore happens exactly like I expect it to, and very soon after that I am in full control of the Ministry as well as Hogwarts.

Now, I follow the most promising track for immortality yet – the Deathly Hallows.

The Horcruxes guarantee my longevity, but the Hallows make one the Master of Death. Right at this moment, I am drawn to one in particular – the Elder Wand, most powerful of all wands, and the most invincible. I kidnap and torture and kill for information and locations. If I can get this all-powerful wand, I will be able to defeat Harry Potter once and for all.

The fact that many do not even believe in the existence of such a wand makes the trail to it a rather foggy one. Legend and truth confuse themselves and mix together, but I finally come upon it in Dumbledore's grave. And I take it. Even the only wizard everyone claims I feared could not avoid death.

Casting with this wand, however, is nothing special. Anything extraordinary that comes out of it is a result of my powers, not the wand's. It occurs to me that I am not the master of the wand – the last master was Dumbledore, and the one to kill Dumbledore was Severus.

Severus is the true master of the Elder Wand.

I twirl the Deathstick in my fingers slowly, pondering this. In order for myself to become the master of the wand, I must kill Severus. I feel nothing at the thought. However, he is _extremely_ useful. Should I wait? I am almost complete victor, perhaps I won't need him anymore.

I arrive at Malfoy Manor, where they are holding Potter. However, when I arrive, he is not there. Pettigrew is dead, and the rest of the prisoners are gone as well. My fury runs white hot as I destroy and torture all those there, all those responsible for this complete lack of competency. These wizards and witches are of the purest line, the most powerful talent, and they were not living up to it.

After driving two of them to broken madness, I believe I have made the point that this will not be tolerated.

I am interrupted with news – another of my Horcruxes has been found and taken by Potter, in addition to the one he disposed of his second year, which is yet another reason I am not particularly happy with Lucius Malfoy. Still, the news is not good. I promptly Crucio the messenger and Apparate to each of the hiding places I had chosen to put the pieces of my soul.

The locket in the cave has disappeared. Disturbed, I continue on.

The ring is also gone.

My anger returning full force, I then Apparate to Gringotts, where the most recently stolen Horcrux had been stored.

Only to find that the one held there has also been stolen.

Everyone dies. Everyone. Goblin. Witch. Wizard. Pure-blood, Mudblood, the life of everyone in Gringotts is mine for the taking and I take it without hesitation. Green flashes of light. Torture. Pain. Screams and wails and groans of pain, and the floor is flooded with the red of blood.

Nagini approaches me, speaking sibilantly and with a tone of vindictive, simple pleasure. My response to her is quiet, calm. She must stay near me. She is one of the only ones left. The only other one is at Hogwarts, and now that I know what Potter is up to, I can find him. I Apparate the two of us to just outside the Hogwarts grounds.

I see the defenses going up, and I know Potter his here.

I cast a silent Sonorus on myself before speaking, relishing in the sibilant, frightening echo my voice creates.

"I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood. Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight." After casting a silent Quietus to negate the spell on my voice, we wait.

Potter fails to appear and I tell my Death Eaters to attack.

Severus comes out to meet me, and we go to the Shrieking Shack. It all ends tonight, I know this now. I will kill Harry Potter and then the entire world will be mine for the taking. I do not need Severus any longer.

I express my gratitude and intent bluntly. He tries to slither his way out of it, and I give a cold smile. I did not expect any less from him. There is no other way, unfortunately. Master the wand, master Potter, and finally master death.

I cue Nagini and she attacks the Headmaster, blood splattering against the wall behind him and onto us. I would normally let her feed, but there is not enough time, and there will be plenty for her to gorge on by the end of the night. I Apparate Nagini and I back to where I Summoned the Death Eaters.

My robes are soaked in blood from my earlier activities. My followers begin to realize this and I can feel the disgust mingled with incredible fear in the air. I let it hang for a few moments before cleaning myself, and I sneer towards the castle.

I have done many things in my life, and it all comes to this, the final battle. Most would define my acts as terrible, evil, but I know the truth. I have the power, I have the control. I have done more for witches and wizards than any other one being has done. I take action. And because of this, I have done _great_ things.

Terrible, yes.

But great.


	10. The Last Enemy To Be Defeated Is Death

I am special.

Another Sonorus is cast. "You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery." I can see them from here. Everyone stops, listens. Though everyone remains on guard, wands raised. "Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured. I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself." A sneer overtakes my face. "I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

I command another counter spell from the Elder Wand.

Time passes. When the hour is almost up, Harry Potter arrives. He stands, straight and proud, looking at me with no expression.

I raise my wand. My head is tilted as I get a good look at this boy, this boy who many supposed to be my downfall.

"Avada kedavra!"

What I experience next is an echo of what happened the first time I tried to kill Harry Potter. The pain returns, but it is worse, for I feel it in my own body, and I cannot comprehend anything but the pain.

I do not know how much time passes, but my body begins to fail me. Illusions pass in front of me. Through the haze of pain I begin watching events unfold – events I soon recognize make up the Tale of the Three Brothers.

I cannot think. I cannot move. The pain is too unbearable. I can only watch as Death takes all three of the brothers.

_That will not be me_. It is not a thought, it is a knowledge that burns through me, intensifying the pain. _I will not submit to Death_.

The pain is gone. My eyes open. I had not realized they were closed. I get myself up, snarling at everyone who attempts to assist me. Narcissa obeys my next command, to see if the Potter boy is dead.

He is.

_Finally_. My body reacts of its own accord, standing straighter, smirk in place without even having to think about it. I make the half-giant oaf carry the pathetic boy to Hogwarts.

Their screams of grief send a wave of ultimate pleasure through me. They grow louder, but I put an end to that with a twitch of my wand.

"SILENCE!" I command after my Silencio is cast. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet where he belongs!" I watch greedily as the half-breed obeys me. "You see? Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

Someone calls out in defiance. How odd. I recast the Silencing Charm.

"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds, killed while trying to save himself." The lie is smooth. A boy charges me but I Disarm him. "And who is this?" I taunt. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"

Bellatrix laughs beside me. "It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord. The boy who has been making all the trouble at school."

"Ah, yes." I smirk. "I remember." Not for whatever he's done at school, but for being the infant who was almost the subject of the Prophecy instead of Harry Potter. "But you are a pure-blood, aren't you, my brave boy?" I inquire softly, dangerously, already knowing the answer.

"So what if I am?" His voice is loud, defiant.

"You show spirit, and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."

"I'll join you when hell freezes over." My eyes narrow and he grins. "Dumbledore's Army!" the boy shouts, and others in the crowd cheer.

Jaw set, I tilt my head up, nose in the air as I glare at them all. "Very well. If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head, be it."

With a wave of the Elder Wand, I Summon the Sorting Hat. "There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School. There will be no more houses. The emblem, shield and colours of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone, won't they, Neville Longbottom?" My voice is full of venom as I Body-Bind the boy and set the Hat atop his head. "Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me." And I set the Hat on fire.

Chaos breaks loose. None of my enchantments are holding . Everyone reanimates and begins fighting with my Death Eaters. Nagini, no longer beside me, goes to strike at the Longbottom boy, who is charging me with the Sword of Gryffindor –

I hiss in Parseltongue. "NAGINI, back to me, NOW."

But the order is too late and my snake is beheaded. Dimwitted, foolish creature!

"HARRY! Where's Harry?" Hagrid bellows and I nearly burst in my fury.

I fly up the steps into Hogwarts to find Potter, but Kingsley, McGonagall, and Slughorn all hinder me by engaging me in battle.

Nearby, Bellatrix is holding her own against the blood-traitor Weasley mother, taunting her. I focus on a Killing Curse aimed at Kingsley, but it misses, just as the one the blood-traitor casts hits Bella.

"NO," I roar with rage, and all my opponents are blown back as I advance on the elder redhead. How _dare_ she, someone who disgraces the name of pureblood, even _think_ of destroying a Lestrange, a Black! _You will know your place before I kill you_, I think viciously as I send a violent and painful hex her way.

"PROTEGO!" A shield is put up between myself and the Weasley. I whip my head towards the offending caster.

Harry Potter.

_HOW MANY TIMES MUST I KILL YOU, POTTER?!_

As everyone else exclaims with joy, we circle each other. Adversaries at the last stand. I sneer as he begins to speak. "I don't want anyone else to try to help. It's got to be like this. It's got to be me."

"Potter doesn't mean that." My sneer grows more pronounced. "That isn't how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?"

"Nobody. There are no more Horcruxes. It's just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good."

I narrow my eyes. No more Horcruxes? Liar. There is no way he knows about the diadem, let alone found it. "One of us? You think it will be you, do you, the boy who has survived by accident, and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?"

He is infuriatingly calm. For a second I nearly succumb to weakness and do things the Muggle way by strangling him, but I restrain myself as he speaks. "Accident, was it, when my mother died to save me? Accident, when I decided to fight in that graveyard? Accident, that I didn't defend myself tonight, and still survived, and returned to fight again?"

"ACCIDENTS," I respond with a voice that thunders through the Great Hall. "Accident and chance and the fact that you crouched and sniveled behind the skirts of greater men and women, and permitted me to kill them for you!"

"You won't be killing anyone else tonight." My glare at him is disdainful. "You won't be able to kill any of them, ever again. Don't you get it? I was ready to die to stop you hurting these people."

"But _you did not_," I snarl.

"I meant to, and that's what did it. I've done what my mother did. They're protected from you. Haven't you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? You can't torture them. You can't touch them. You don't learn from your mistakes, Riddle, do you?"

I bristle in indignation. "_You dare_ –"

"Yes, I dare. I know things you don't know, Tom Riddle. I know lots of important things that you don't. Want to hear some, before you make another big mistake?"

I'm tempted to laugh at him. "Is it love again? Dumbledore's favourite solution, _love_, which he claimed conquered death, though love did not stop him falling from the Tower and breaking like an old waxwork?" I sneer, digusted. "Love, which did not prevent me stamping out your Mudblood mother like a cockroach, Potter. Do you believe you have magic that I do not, or else a more powerful weapon?"

"I believe both."

I nearly gnash my teeth. I must stay in control. "You think you know more magic than I do? I brought about the death of Albus Dumbledore!"

He has the tiniest smile on his face. "You thought you did, but you were wrong."

"Dumbledore is dead," I snap. When people are dead, they STAY dead. That is what death IS.

"Yes, Dumbledore's dead, but you didn't have him killed. He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant." He is still calm. Confident. _It will be your downfall, Potter_.

I scoff at the boy. "What childish dream is this?"

"Professor Snape wasn't yours. He loved my mother from the time they were children. As soon as you started hunting her down, Snape became Dumbledore's spy."

Curious. It explains why he asked me to spare her. Still, I laugh. "It matters not! I crushed them as I crushed your mother. Dumbledore was trying to keep his Elder Wand from me. The greatest wand ever made. But I have it now. I am the new master of the Elder Wand."

"No, you're not!" Potter argues.

I smile as though explaining this to a small child. "Snape killed Dumbledore and became master of the wand. Three hours ago I killed Snape, so now I am the master of it."

"That wand isn't working properly for you, is it?" I let the smile leave my face as I glare at him. "Because you murdered the wrong person. Snape was never the master of the Elder Wand because he never defeated Dumbledore."

"He killed Dumbledore." My voice is a low growl.

"Aren't you listening?" I narrow my eyes at his nerve. Now he is speaking to me as though _I_ am the child. "Dumbledore's death was planned between them. Before Dumbledore died on that Tower, Draco Malfoy disarmed him. Draco was then the master of the Elder Wand."

I wave my hand in disregard to the statement. "No matter. I'll deal with him later."

"Too late, Riddle. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took this wand from him. So now the only question is: does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does… I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

My eyes widen. Quickly, I point the Elder Wand at him. _Lies, all lies! I have the power, I have the control, I have the Elder Wand, I am the Master of Death_!

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

The wand spins out of my hand as, once again, the curse rebounds. No. No. _No_.

_I am SPECIAL!_


End file.
